Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HIM
Icould go again. All she had to do was look at me, and what was left of my blood was rushing south.
I didn’t know if that was a good thing, or the worst possible thing.
I didn’t know what it’d mean if I was never fully satisfied.
If the high didn’t last me a few months like it used to.
If this was temporary or a permanent affliction. If she was the disease or the cure.
I shoved the doll aside, reached out an arm and tugged Jules down the bed by an ankle. She panicked, her arms flailing and grabbing at the sheets before she settled herself and I drove up into her with a single thrust. Her pussy wet, gushing, throbbing before I’d done anything but impale her.
The doll was fine. The doll got me there like my palm got me there, like my fantasies could sometimes get me there. But this was different. This was warm. This was flesh. This breathed and bled, suctioned and swelled.
I didn’t know if she was bluffing. If she really wanted me to fuck her or not. Though the tears streaming down her cheeks hinted that it wasn’t what she thought it would be.
“What’s wrong? I thought this was what you wanted?
To be my dead girl? My little doll? Sure seemed like it was what you wanted when you were watching me.
” I clamped a hand down over her mouth. I couldn’t chance her answering me.
I couldn’t be sure what I would do if she did.
I couldn’t be sure how I’d feel afterwards.
And right now, all I wanted to feel was the way her pussy was constricting around me.
Her muscles pulling me impossibly deeper.
It wasn’t the stillness I was used to. The stillness I thought I always needed.
Somehow it was better. The heat, the tension, the shallow breaths steaming up the palm of my hand.
I tried to concentrate on that, instead of the fact I was going off script.
Honestly, it wasn’t that hard when my cock was that hard. Fucker was doing the thinking for me.
My thighs were aching, my neck kinked as I forced myself to keep watching her face.
Staring into her eyes and waiting for them to close.
To blink. To tear up or flicker. They didn’t do any of that.
She wasn’t crying anymore. Just reflecting the image of me leaning over her back at me.
Thrusting in and out. Diving farther and farther into the abyss there was no returning from.
The one she wasn’t supposed to return from either.
A few more drives of my hips into her tight cunt, the smell of pussy juice and sweat filling the air, and I couldn’t help myself. Something was missing. That metallic scent I was so used to. The added heat that came with it.
I yanked her head to the side. Exposing that long, pale neck. Jules needed to get out in the sun more. Guess that was what happened when you worked nights, though. Your skin got deathly white. The blood loss probably didn’t help much with that.
I wanted to bite down, rip into flesh, see the red I remembered draining from her wrists.
Feel how wet and warm that was too. I wanted to penetrate her in more ways than one.
I could picture myself doing it. As vivid as if it were happening in front of me.
That last gasp of air she would take, the way her chest would stop moving while I kept moving.
Thrusting, fucking, obliterating her insides until they were spilling out between us.
On the sheets, my hands. That pale skin getting paler.
It was the part where fantasy blended with reality. Where the control I had was the biggest turn-on of them all. Where life and death blended together and you didn’t know what was what anymore.
Fuck, maybe I did like them dead. Maybe I needed more than just the quiet and stillness.
Maybe there was never going to be the perfect one for me.
Because they weren’t dolls. Jules wasn’t a doll.
Eventually she would bleed out. Eventually those eyes wouldn’t be watching me.
Because they couldn’t. They would rot out of her skull. Turn gelatinous. Change color.
They always did.
I couldn’t deal with the decay. When they stopped looking human and started melting into lumps of meat and curling flesh.
I also couldn’t get out of my own head. Couldn’t focus on anything but the inevitable and how different it felt while also feeling exactly the same.
Like dropping a glass bottle off the roof.
Didn’t matter whether you were watching it or not.
You’d still hear it shatter. Pretending otherwise wouldn’t change its fate. And it wouldn’t change Jules’s either.
She was as broken as that bottle and so was I.
“Fuck!” I yelled it out loud this time, shoving myself back. My cock sticking to my thigh, wet and limp. My hand clutching a knife I didn’t even remember grabbing. For fuck’s sake, I didn’t even know where the fuck it came from.
I’d blacked out. At some point while I was fucking her, I’d blacked out. I was moments away from stabbing her. I didn’t know what stopped me. Or if it changed anything. What I did know was that I didn’t like the way she was looking at me right now.
Not scared. Not angry. But like she fucking pitied me. Like she wanted to do whatever she could to fix me. And that just meant we belonged on the same side of the looney bin.